Ginny's Dilemma
by shnapbean
Summary: What is it that Ginny won't tell anyone? Why is she so subdued?


_A/N: So, this is my first fanfic! I'm not too sure about the plot… I sort of knew the general direction I was going in and then I kind of – well, I did - make things up on the spot a little XD We'll see where it goes! Thanks for reading :D_

'Mum?'

Molly continued scrubbing the stained kitchen counter distractedly. This was so unlike the usual behaviour of her mother Ginny couldn't help but get sidetracked.

'Why aren't you using magic?'

'I'll tell you why,' Molly growled. 'Sirius accidentally - accidentally, he'll say when he's back – was in such a manic rush to see Dumbledore he grabbed my wand as well as his! What on earth was he thinking? That man'll be the death of me. Here I am, Arthur at work 8 hours a day – can't blame him for that though, bless his soul – anyway, here I am, cleaning like a muggle housewife…' Ginny sighed and started to lay the creaky oak table, as she knew her mother would mutter to herself in this ilk for the best part of the next ten minutes. Evidently Molly was not in the best of moods; and as Ginny knew her mother well, she decided gladly she would tell her mother later. Molly could be like a temperamental firework at times, especially considering she had at least ten people to cater for and Sirius 'to deal with', as Molly herself put it. Ginny wasn't at all bothered though – putting off what she'd be worrying about for days was not a hard task. Not at the time.

At supper that night Ginny only toyed with her boiled potatoes, cabbage and beef. Admittedly this was not Ginny's favourite meal, and luckily her quietness went unnoticed by her peers. 'Hey, Gin – quidditch tonight, back in the orchard? George and I made this snitch-type thing that actually chases you and, if it catches you, gives you Snape hair for an hour - be fun to try out, eh?' Ginny thankfully felt she didn't have to respond as Hermione spluttered across the table 'Snape hair? You said you'd bewitched it with a sample of Felix Felicis so it made you luckier for an hour!'

'Ah, Hermione, how else would we've gotten you to play?' George winked at the unimpressed Hermione. 'You're our best player!'

'Oh, shut up. You know perfectly well I'm awful at Quidditch.'

'When we say Snape hair, we mean greased seaweed, by the way.'

'Grease?' Molly exclaimed from the rear end of the table. 'Was that where my lard went? That's why we couldn't have beef _pie_ today, Fred Weasley!'

Ron snorted with laughter and choked on his morsel of beef. Harry patted him on the back, the beef went flying across the room and in the entire commotion Ginny saw the chance to bring the dirty dishes through and hide her face from them all. She could not bring herself to tell her mother. Nor could she bring herself to tell Harry, Hermione, her father or any of her brothers. Her heart felt tight with guilt as she put her fiery head onto her hands and wondered dejectedly how she would get through this.

The next morning arose bright and crisp, just like Molly's demeanour. Having getting little to no sleep that night, Ginny winced as her mother swept into her bedroom and thrust back the curtains, pooling the whole room with the kind of white, cloudy light that only appears in winter. 'Mum, don't!-' Ginny murmured from the depths of her bed. 'Darling, are you feeling alright?' Molly interrupted her daughter, easing down onto the creaky bed. After triumphantly making Sirius feel guilty the previous evening, Molly had looked content and unhurried, like she'd won a battle – yet now she looked genuinely concerned.

'I'm fine!' Ginny muttered rather pointlessly, as she knew her mum would_ not_ let her youngest child get away this easily. Molly could nag, worry and shout as much as the next person but her unconditional love and care proved her as someone who could and would help with anyone's problem. However, Ginny decided to block out this side of her mother and finished with 'Seriously mum, I'll be down in a minute. Just… I'm a little tired!' Her mother's soft brown eyes reflected more indisputable concern. 'But my love, you got a really early night last night! You missed Quidditch with everyone because you said you were tired! Please, tell me what the matter is, Ginny.'

A sudden urge to blurt out everything crept upon the distressing teen, but a domineering voice in her head persuaded her contrary. Keeping things bottled up to herself was one of Ginny's weaker attributes, as the usually confident, happy and popular girl didn't ever want to be seen as whiny or miserable. Ginny unconsciously prided herself in this. But how long could this misery last if she didn't tell anyone about the huge mistake she made on the last day of the winter term? Could she forget about it and pretend it never happened? In a moment of sheer desperation, Ginny wondered: could she… could she force someone to cast the Olbiviate charm on herself? No, that wouldn't _solve_ the problem. And she'd have to tell someone what had happened before they even would remotely agree to – which would be pointless as she would have told someone in any case. Ginny contemplated that she _could_ be over-reacting. Making a giant out of a gnome. But… probably not. She felt awful.


End file.
